


On the Clear Understanding

by samyazaz



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samyazaz/pseuds/samyazaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichabod Crane is the strangest boy at school, and Abbie's pretty sure it has nothing to do with him being an exchange student from London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Clear Understanding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lady_ragnell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ragnell/gifts).



Ichabod Crane is the strangest boy at school, and Abbie's pretty sure it has nothing to do with him being a foreign exchange student from London. He talks with big words, and Abbie thought at first that he was one of _those_ guys, the ones who are smarter than the entire school and know it and love to lord it over everyone. But she's rarely heard an unkind word pass his mouth and he's always happy to explain himself when someone stares at him with a blank look and says, "Sorry, _what?_ ", and after a few dubious weeks Abbie decides that he's not being a pretentious ass, just maybe a bit clueless about the impression his expansive vocabulary gives. 

It's not just the way he talks, though. It's how he's got posture that would make a chiropractor weep with joy, and how he watches everyone like he's taking it all in and making notes and will present a thorough report later, and how he makes life difficult for himself by picking fights with the History teacher over inaccuracies in his lecture on British history and looks frustrated with both of them as he does it, like he just can't help himself.

Abbie, on the other hand, is an unremarkable student. She gets good grades, but she's not the sort of person people take notice of, so when Ichabod catches her in the hall outside her locker and says, "Miss Mills," by way of greeting, she gives him a narrow-eyed look and wonders if it's more of his weird, reserved politeness, or if he's calling her that because it's the only way he's ever heard their History teacher address her.

She turns to face him, looks him over, and answers him, "Mr. Crane," in a flat tone that invites him to kindly get on with it.

He looks a little nonplussed, but recovers quickly. "May I carry your books to class for you?"

She bursts out laughing. "Seriously?" What is this, the fifties? "My books are in my backpack, but sure, you can carry that if you want." She shrugs it off and holds it out to him, brows raised. She doesn't really expect him to do it. When he takes her back and slings it over his shoulder beside his own, she's startled into silence. There's really nothing to say to that, and nothing to do but follow him to History and wonder what on earth is going on.

The next day, he offers her his arm when they run into each other at the bottom of the stairs leading up to Abbie's English class and Ichabod's Chemistry. "I am actually capable of walking unassisted on my own two feet," she points out, brows raised.

"I have no doubt," he says with a smile, and they're gathering more attention standing there than they would if she just did it, so she relents with a shake of her head and a bemused smile, lays her hand on his arm, and lets him lead her upstairs.

He buys lunch for her — doesn't even give her a chance to refuse, just drops down opposite her at the cafeteria table with two trays and puts one in front of her. "They messed my order up, and it's not like anyone's else likely to order the same thing, so they said I could have it for free. Better than letting it go to waste." 

The order on the tray he's given her is nothing at all like the one on his, but it is _her_ usual Thursday order. She's a little startled that he's been paying that much attention, but considering she was just digging through her bag trying to figure out if she's got enough change for a slice of greasy pizza, she just smiles and says, "You'll have to give them my thanks, then," she says, and ducks her head when it makes Ichabod give a little smile in return.

A week later it's raining after class lets out, and she's not even surprised when Ichabod shows up at her elbow, offering her his coat and holding his umbrella out over her head while the rain pours down on his own. "Crane," she protests, but he just says, "Where's your car?" and she tells him, because the longer she stands there arguing with him about it, the wetter he's going to get.

A week after that, she opens her locker in the morning before her first class and is flummoxed at the sight of a pretty little corsage of pink orchids and cream ribbon lying on top of her English books. When she turns, Ichabod's standing there at her elbow looking insufferably pleased with himself. "Do you like it?"

"Breaking into students' lockers is a violation of school policy, you know."

His eyes are bright and lively with mirth. "Are you going to report me, Miss Mills?"

She takes the corsage out of the locker and runs her fingers over the silky petals. "Are you going to tell me what this has all been about, Crane?"

He takes her hand and turns to face her. A lump forms in her throat when he bows deeply over it, as courtly as any hero in any period drama she's ever seen. "I was wondering if you would do me the great honor of accompanying me to your institution's upcoming promenade."

She stares at him blankly for a long moment. "Prom?" she says at last, when the words sink through her head enough to make sense. "Are you asking me to prom?"

His smile is answer enough. She stares down at the corsage she's still holding in her hand. "Prom is two weeks away," she says dumbly. "The flowers will wilt."

His smile spreads, as sharp and devilish as it ever is. "I'll buy you another. Is that a yes?"

Her heart's fluttering and all she can think about is that the last person to ask her to a dance was Luke Morales, who'd sidled up to her before Homecoming and asked, "So, are we doing dinner first or what?" with a little smirk like the fact that they went out once meant now they were a foregone conclusion. And Ichabod is here, waiting for her answer with hope in his eyes, and he's been courting her (there's no other word for it, he's been _courting_ her) for over a month now and she doesn't even have to consider it before she says, "Yes."

His smile is brilliant and he lifts her hand to kiss her knuckles like this is a freaking Jane Austen novel, and she gasps out, "But if we're going to go to prom together, I think you'd better start calling me by my name. Only teachers and social workers call me Miss Mills."

It only then occurs to her to wonder if he even knows what her first name is, but Ichabod just smiles some more and brushes his thumb over her knuckles. "Abbie, then," he murmurs, and slips the corsage over her wrist like she isn't standing there in Jenny's hand-me-down jeans and a faded t-shirt. "I look forward to it."


End file.
